


Keep and Take

by OhNoMyBreadsticks



Series: Bready Fills Prompts [10]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Denial of Feelings, Elder God, Emotionally Repressed, Face-Fucking, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhNoMyBreadsticks/pseuds/OhNoMyBreadsticks
Summary: Stargazing is a good time to finally talk about difficult topics, right? Or it might be, if Connor wasn't absolutely insistent on the fact that he doesn't have any pesky feelings.
Relationships: Captain Allen/CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60
Series: Bready Fills Prompts [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1411321
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26





	Keep and Take

**Author's Note:**

  * For [connorssock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/gifts).



> This was a tumblr fill for the lovely Socks, who gave me free reign to write whatever I wanted! So I of course wrote some horribly indulgent Allen60 lol, with the most whiplash-inducing tags I think I've managed yet XD I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Extra clarity note: this fic is set in the 1800s, several hundred years prior to the main storyline! Timeline can be found [here](https://ohnomybreadsticks.tumblr.com/be9timeline)!

On summer nights, the sky above the prairie is a vast and dark expanse. The moon is not quite full yet, not quite at her full splendor, but she still shines bright enough to illuminate the whispering grass below. Connor is on his back, eyes turned up to the stars, tail flicking lazily to keep some air circulating against his skin. When Allen had first announced his plan to take a blanket and lie out under the stars, Connor had scoffed. Ridiculous man that he was, Allen hadn’t even batted an eyelash at the distaste of a god, instead gathering up his blanket and wandering slowly off into the night.

It had taken Connor only a few minutes to decide that watching Allen be ridiculous outside was more interesting than sitting around inside with nothing to do, so he trotted along next to the man. They walked far enough afield that the light from the cabin was completely lost, and they were alone amidst the swell of grass and the feeling of cool air descending from the sky. Allen laid out his blanket and then laid down on top of it, shifting slightly until he was comfortable, hands clasped on his chest and eyes pointed towards the heavens.

Stargazing, is, apparently, something humans do where they go outside at night just to see the stars. As if that’s something that needs special attention. Truly, strange creatures. Connor gives the sky a cursory glance, seeing every familiar point of light, before turning his eyes to the familiar creature next to him. Allen is in a simple white shirt, thin linen with the sleeves rolled up efficiently to keep him from overheating, and it makes him almost glow under the cold light of the moon. There is sweat cooling on his skin, Connor can smell it, and dirt under his fingernails from his work today. He is tired, eyes fluttering closed every few minutes despite his best attempts to keep them open to look up at the stars.

Somehow this sparks a question from some depth Connor wasn’t sure he had, and he breaks the easy silence of the summer night. “Why do you keep no companion, and take no partner? For the toil of the land is difficult, and the nights are long.” An inscrutable emotion passes over Allen’s face, and he doesn’t turn his head to look at Connor in return. “So you would have me keep a wife? Some hardy woman, strong enough to weather this land, take her into my home and into my bed?” He asks in return, and Connor wrinkles his brows together as he pictures it. It’s not unimaginable, this image that he sees and has seen before repeated in humanity. He had not meant a wife, necessarily, but he supposes here that would be the most common choice.

Allen's next words catch Connor off guard as he thinks to himself - a difficult feat - "To  _ keep _ someone, hm, that's never appealed. Keep and take...words for you, perhaps, but not for me." There's a hint of mirth in his voice, and Connor sees the crinkle of crows feet at the corners of his eyes. "Besides, I have little to offer in the way of comfort. To be kept in my home would be little more than a jail cell."

Connor thinks of the warmth of the hearth and the gentle murmur of flesh on flesh, and an unbidden whisper rises in his mind.

_ To be kept like this would be a welcome sentence indeed. _

The thought angers Connor, startles him, and he cannot hide the snarl that curls his lips up over his teeth. How ridiculous, how absolutely fucking  _ absurd _ . No jail cell could hold a god, and certainly none should appeal to one. Allen is still staring up at the sky, and if he sees the emotions passing across Connor’s face he says nothing. As usual. Nothing. Suddenly, the easy silence he so usually appreciates is an affront. Nevermind that it’s Connor who has halted the conversation. He is not obliged to make conversation with some human who thinks he knows what words are fit to be used by a god.

Connor’s hand snakes out and grips Allen by the chin, pulling him roughly into a kiss that’s more teeth than lips from the very start. And Allen submits willingly ( _ allows him _ , as if he were the type of being that needed permission), meeting him with a groan and a sigh. As if this were what he had expected all along. The indignation and anger burning in Connor’s chest overwhelm what might have been a possessive hurt, and he sets about claiming Allen as thoroughly as he pleases.  _ If he wants to stay silent, then he can put that mouth to good use _ , Connor thinks, as he straddles Allen’s chest and thumbs his lips apart.

But somehow, Connor cannot bear to look down, even as he feeds his cock into Allen’s waiting mouth. He looks up at the stars instead, indulging in human pleasures entirely, and does not search those blue eyes for any form of emotion. Understanding, want, pity...Connor has no need for them. Has no need to reassure himself with the help of this man. He allows the pleasure to wash over him quickly, no holding back even as he feels Allen’s chest heaving from the effort of breathing fast and hard through his nose. His release spills out across his lips and chin, he knows, because as he slithers off onto the blanket he sees Allen’s tongue dart out to clean it all away.

They don’t speak again that night, even as Allen snakes his hand into his pants and brings himself off, low groans making Connor’s ears twitch. Instead, they lay together and look up at the stars, as impassive and distant as the feeling in Connor’s chest. The embers of anger are fading fast, leaving only the cold smoulder of that first insidious thought. 

But what kind of a god would let himself be kept? Connor decides that night that he will never find out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!! Poor Sixty really is pretty deep in denial, huh? XD 
> 
> As always, any and all comments or kudos left at any time are loved and cherished <3 If you'd like to see more of my drabbles or stop by for a chat you can find me over on [tumblr](https://ohnomybreadsticks.tumblr.com/)! :)


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